Page 42 of Kneeling to Candy

I feign a smile and quickly exit the nursery, afraid of catching baby-fever. It’s the one thing I never want to come down with.

Opal follows me downstairs to the main level into the pastel-colored living room—a more muted rainbow themed space. Poor Gauge. There’s not a hint of biker masculinity in this house other than himself when present. It’s a good thing he’s madly in love with his wife, or I think the overload of feminine touches would drive him bonkers.

I sink into one of her accent wingback chairs. Opal sits across from me on her lavender-colored couch, ogling me with enthusiasm.

“I see you and Butch have gotten a little closer,” Opal hedges, with a small smile. “I’ve been rooting for you two. Looks like my prayers won out.”

This time, I fail miserably at hiding my feelings. I frown, shifting uneasily in my chair.

“Oh. I’m sorry if I misspoke. You appeared together when you returned home. With how close you guys were standing to each other, holding hands. And Butch looked upset when you said you were coming with me to the house, like he didn’t like the idea of not being near you.”

Was Butch upset with me for leaving his side? He looked a little forlorn when I left with Opal. A swirl of hope circles my heart before I come to my senses. If Butch wants me, he’s not doing much to convince me he does.

Opal bites her thumbnail, sadness crossing her angelic face as she studies me.

I wave away her apology. No reason to be upset with Opal’s observation. Had I seen what she saw, I’d assume we were a couple, too.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Do I want to talk about my unknown relationship with Butch? Not really. But I don’t have an appointment with Brandon for a few days. He’s usually the one I ramble on about my feelings with, if not Butch.

I take a hesitant glance at Opal. The woman is Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Whatever I say to her will remain between us.

Pulling the trigger, I spill my guts. “A while back, Butch mentioned if I was interested in something more with him, to let him know. It took me a year to find myself again with therapy, but I felt good about pursuing a relationship with him. So I made a bold move last night when we came back to the hotel room we were sharing. We hooked up. And now it’s weird.”

Opal nods, understanding in her pale blue eyes. “The day after Gauge and I first had sex, I was super-confused, too. I wasn’t sure if I was a hookup to him, or if he wanted us to be more.”

Yes. She gets it. I turn my body in my seat to face her head-on, more willing to share my story.

“I don’t know what’s going on between us. Atlas called the team back home. We left right away this morning. There wasn’t a real discussion other than—” I bite my tongue, stopping myself from revealing Butch’s submissive kink. It’s not for me to share.

I release a tired sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“Of course it’s complicated. You have unresolved business to discuss with him.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to bring it up either. I’m not the best at communicating my feelings. And to make matters worse, I may have mentioned to him this morning I had a dream about us being married. He sort of got quiet—quieter than he already is.”

Opal opens her mouth in a long, “Oooh. Guys can be weird about marriage. It doesn’t mean Butch doesn’t want it. He could be internalizing what you told him.”

True. Butch definitely runs everything through his head, responding thoughtfully when needed.

I shrug. “Hopefully. I mean, he revealed something to me few people know about him. He wouldn’t have said anything if he wasn’t serious about us—at least that’s what Ziggy said in a roundabout way to me on the way home.”

Opal gives me a tentative smile. “Is he worth it?”

I nervously run my fingers through my pink hair, nodding.

Her smile gets bigger. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“Like a lot,” I admit, my cheeks pulling up into a smile.

She gives my knee a gentle squeeze. “Then talk to him about your feelings.”

It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at my friend. “Opal, you’re the textbook example of keeping shit to yourself when you’re scared,” I accuse her, referring to her early days in the club when her childhood abuser scared her into silence.

“You’re right. I’m the perfect example of what not to do,” she counters, unruffled. “You forget I see Brandon for therapy, too. Working with him has helped me tremendously when talking out my feelings. You’re stronger than the woman you were prior to seeking trauma counseling. If you want Butch to hear where you’re coming from, you gotta open up to him.”

Fuck. “It sounds uncomfortable.”

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